The Frugal Traveler’s Mediterranean Trip

Nothing attracts me to a city as much as an exaggerated but pervasive generalization that discourages timid travelers, keeps prices down and lines short, and makes people like me very happy.

But I’m an Italy novice, and this was my first time in Naples. So while I love wandering and discovering rather than touring established sights, I wondered if I could I skip the most famous pizzerias and churches in the world? Dispense with Pompeii? Miss Capri, the island that the shorts and the tomato-mozzarella-and-basil salad are named for?

My solution: do some must-sees, and some see-what-happens.

When I stepped out of the subway near Naples’s historic center it took about 10 cacophonous seconds for me to fall in love. A soccer ball rolled past me with kids chasing after it; pedestrians jawed and gestured on street corners like overacting extras on a movie set; motorbikes zoomed by haphazardly; and drying laundry fluttered in the breeze from just about every ancient balcony. I love cities with no clothes dryers.

Things got even better when I found I Fiori di Napoli, my 35 euro a night bed-and-breakfast, hidden away in a building without a street number, let alone a sign. Walking up marble steps to the third floor of this 18th-century building just off the preposterously narrow streets of the Spanish Quarter, I was greeted by Manuela Colosimo, one of the owners. Manuela, who spoke in Naples-seasoned but fluent English, would provide me with endless suggestions (and maps, and guidebooks, and strong coffee) over the week.

Her first suggestion: Trattoria Nennella, just two blocks a way, where a two-course dinner with a bottle of wine (note: a bottle just for me), a bottle of water, a cup of cherries and shouting, merengue-dancing waiters cost me 12 euros.

Manuela snatched my dirty clothes too, thank goodness (I was out of just about everything), but rain would delay their return for several days. So much for my soft spot for laundry-draped urban landscapes.

Seth Kugel for The New York TimesInside the National Archaeological Museum.

I decided to spend my first full day wandering the historic center, shelling out 7 euros to see Giuseppe Sanmartino’s “Veiled Christ” in the Museo Cappella Sansevero, an astonishing sculpture that even atheists might find divine. I tried the pizza at the famed Di Matteo (3 to 6 euros) and the calzone at the Pizzaiolo del Presidente (named after Bill Clinton’s visit there – 4 euros). Both were finely executed in the best Neapolitan style, though crusts tended to be a bit soggy in the center if you ask me, and Di Matteo tried to tack an extra euro onto the bill, an annoying though possibly honest error. I saw the National Archaeological Museum and the overwhelming concentration of Nativity-scene shops on Via San Gregorio Armeno.

Standard stuff. But I also wandered into a barber shop in the Spanish Quarter to have my hair cut by a 73-year-old barber named Ciro, who had been plying his trade on the same corner for 50 years. That ran me 8 euros, and we chatted the whole time, which is impressive since he doesn’t know even the word “haircut” in English and I can barely order fettucine Alfredo at the Olive Garden.

But Italians have ways of making themselves understood. Ciro would not be the only one (nor even the only Ciro). There was the old lady who I sat next to after taking one of the popular tours of the Greek cisterns and Roman aqueducts turned World War II bomb shelters. She told me stories of when her family sought refuge there during the war when she was 8. (I think.) And the man who chatted me up as I wandered the narrow alleys of another residential neighborhood; he directed me to a tiny, rustic-seeming trattoria named ‘A Cucina ‘e Mammà, with a 7 euro lunch special. All conversation stopped when I walked in, a sure sign that this was not a tourist joint. (I couldn’t find a link in English, so here’s the address: Via Fario 101.)

Mixing the well trodden and the less explored was a good strategy on my first venture outside Naples: I went to Pompeii, which lived up to its reputation as a tourist-thronged nightmare and where they had inexplicably run out of maps to accompany the audio tour I shelled out 6.50 euros for. (Silver linings: Pompeii is stunning, and tagging along with cruise-ship groups is a great way to get a free tour guide.) But I also went to the much more manageable-sized, less-thronged and better-preserved Mount Vesuvius victim: Herculaneum. In a money-saving move, I bought a three-day, 27 euro ArteCard that morning. (The card is both a regional transportation pass and a 50 percent discount for most cultural attractions in the area. The first two attractions are free, so it makes sense to visit Pompeii and Herculaneum first, which at 11 euros each are the most expensive.)

Seth Kugel for The New York TimesProcida

I skipped Capri, and instead took Manuela’s advice and went to Procida, a fishing island where Naples residents head on summer weekends for the volcanic black-sand beaches. Apart from some restaurants on the harbors, it’s hard to imagine an island that cares less about tourists. That’s fantastic. But how about at least fixing up the abandoned prison on the hill so people can visit?

Back in Naples that night, I figured I was done with the famous pizzas and went to a random subway stop and set off in a random direction in search of a random pizzeria. The neighborhood where I landed, Mater Dei, had nothing going on, and I thought I had made a mistake. Then I noticed that on an extremely narrow street, throngs of 20-somethings had gathered outside a … a pizzeria?

This was your average neighborhood, but if Neapolitans were willing to wait 90 minutes for a table I knew this was not your average neighborhood place, an impression confirmed by a picture of the owner serving a pizza to Pope John Paul II and by evidence that Vittorio De Sica had filmed parts of “The Gold of Naples” with Sophia Loren there. I had arrived at Pizzeria Starita, famous among pizza cognoscenti but ignored by tourist hordes. (I was the only foreigner there that night.) All future pies I taste will be compared to the racchetta, a 7 euro pizza shaped like a racquetball racket, with ricotta and mushrooms hidden in the handle and tomatoes, eggplant and buffalo mozzarella on the would-be racket head. It probably tasted better because of the company. I made friends galore waiting in line, including a woman named Manuela (my second Manuela!) who had recently lived in New York and took care of translating duties.

Seth Kugel for The New York TimesMousse treats at Pasticceria Volpe.

I perfected my mix of discoveries and must-sees on my final full day, when I went to Pasticceria Volpe, a pastry shop that pizzeria-line Manuela had suggested. Consulting the map, I saw that it was too far out of the way to go just for sweets, but down the street was the National Museum of Capodimonte, an art museum in a Bourbon palace on the hill.

I took the subway to the pastry shop, which was in a modern, less-than-charming neighborhood. I tried to explain in pathetic Italian to a young worker named Anna Maria that a friend had referred me: “Me. American. Yesterday. Pizza. Friend. Eat. Pastry shop. Mmmm.”

Her eyes lit up. “Ah, Manuela!”

Manuela had dropped by that morning and told them to expect me. Suddenly I was everyone’s friend. Anna Maria brought me a bunch of syrupy babas, delicious mini-sfogliatelle, and the shop’s specialty, the mignon moderna, mini-mousse cakes that I tried in berry and pistachio. I paid 5 euros for what I’m sure was worth double that. The owner, Giovanni Volpe, also proudly showed me that he was one of the featured pastry chefs in something called “Foodies in Tour,” an Italy-wide event coming through Naples on June 22.

It was just a short walk to the museum, a hilltop Bourbon palace full of incredible art and devoid of other visitors and guards. It was surreal to wander utterly alone through elegant halls lined with works by El Greco and Caravaggio, Roman sculptures from the Farnese collection and 18th-century furnishings. I could have run through the halls naked.

As it turned out, I did not get robbed while in Naples, although I was careful: I left my watch at home, stuffed my money into the zipped pockets of my anti-pickpocket Barça brand shorts and stayed out of dark alleys to the extent that’s possible in a city where half the streets are dark alleys. As for the trash, though I did have to hold my nose and step around occasional mounds, I was told it was not as bad as past trash crises, and I’d trade the minor inconvenience for the lack of tourist crowds any day.

IF YOU GO:

I Fiori di Napoli was a winner; I found it on EuroCheapo.com which had me book through Venere.com; you can also reserve through the B&B’s Web site. The ArteCard is a money-saving must, and comes in many varieties tailored to the length of your visit and your interests. The ferry to Procida costs 9.50 euros from Naples but just 7 euros from Pozzuoli in the Phlegraean Fields region, reachable by subway. For much, much more, check out the American expat Bonnie Albert’s fantastic English-language site Napoli Unplugged. If only I had discovered it before my final day in town!

MY BOOKS:

499.78 euros! My first week under budget (if only by euro-pennies) and with my own room? Amazing. After the initial hit of a 120.70 euro train to Naples from Nice (I took the 5 a.m. train and haunted my Nice hostel’s lounge until 4 a.m. to avoid paying for a bed), I was able to eat pizza daily, afford plenty of .80 euro espressos, and even fit in three trattoria meals. That’s a huge difference from the Riviera, where I drooled my way past many an open-air restaurant on my way for another baguette sandwich with fruit from the market. The big expense was culture, which the ArteCard helped out with.